Afraid of the Dark
by Meritre
Summary: A slightly neurotic Ginnyfic...well, need I say more?
1. Default Chapter Title

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Unfortunately for me, fortunately for the rest of the world, Ginny Weasley, Colin Creevey, and the rest of 'em don't belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling.

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Afraid of the Dark  
Chapter 1: First Year Punch Neurosis  
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Ginny Weasley shook her head vehemently back and forth, sending her longish pigtails aflight. "It can't be true. Don't tease me."

One flaming-red pigtail smacked Colin Creevey right on the nose; his ear-to-ear grin didn't fade a bit. "I wouldn't tease about something like this!" He pushed the day's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ across the gleaming rosewood table. "The headlines don't lie! Read the article!" Ginny snatched up the front page and read the two-inch high headline: FEARED DARK WIZARD MEETS HIS END IN FRIDAY M.L.E.S STRIKE! She shot Colin a quick, disbelieving glance, then turned her attention to the article:

On Friday, a quartet of Hit Wizards from the M.L.E.S  
(Magical Law Enforcement Squad) infiltrated the residence  
of the Dark wizard Tom Riddle, who is better known  
under his alias Voldemort. The elite group was assigned  
by the M.L.E.S. to eliminate the infamous wizard, who  
is perhaps best known for his partial defeat by young  
Harry Potter in 1980. Riddle had been under M.L.E.S.  
surveillance for five years, but due to what the organization  
calls "more pressing matters," no break-in attempts had  
been made.  


"We figured that, although he was still a possible threat,  
we had more important things to deal with," said  
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, in a statement to  
the press on Friday. "I mean, he'd lost all his power!  
He didn't even have a body!" According to one Hit  
Wizard who was on the team, he no longer had a  
tangible human body, instead possessing a "kind of  
ghostly body, like he was there but he wasn't." To quote  
further from Fudge: "He couldn't do much real damage  
without a body to inhabit, and--especially in light of  
the 1992 incident with Quirrell--I don't think anyone  
would do that."  


A M.L.E.S. spokeswitch told reporters in a Friday  
press conference that "Voldemort had been dormant  
for quite a while. We at the M.L.E.S. believed that  
he was no longer a threat to the magical community,  
which is why we put off this mission for a long time.  
Our men and women were more urgently needed for  
the Sirius Black case. However, once that mission  
was put on a standstill, we were able to send out  
a small group to Albania for the purpose of recon  
and assassination work."  


"This mission was mainly done because of the public  
pressure," stated Fudge at a later press conference.  
"Even though You-Know-Who, er, Voldemort, was  
really nothing to worry about anymore, our feedback  
showed that people still considered him a problem."  


The Hit Wizard quartet seemingly had no problems  
fighting Voldemort. "Blimey, I knew he was a lot  
weaker than he was, back in the day, but I was still  
shocked when I saw just how old and frail he'd  
become," said Hit Wizard Mackenzie Mettere, in  
a Friday interview with _Daily Prophet_ reporters.  
Mettere was a fourth of the squad sent to take out  
Voldemort. "For crying out loud, he couldn't even  
keep a steady grip on his wand."  


Only one mystery lingers over the death of the  
Dark wizard. According to Gawain Prewett, the  
leader of the Hit Wizard squad, the lightning spell  
used to eliminate Voldemort may not, in fact, have  
been what killed him. "All four of us cast the spell,  
thinking he would dodge it. But he just stood there  
and took the blow, without even trying to run,  
almost as if he wanted to die."  


"After the bolts hit him, it was kind of hard to tell  
what happened, but I saw a huge flood of white  
light kind of come out from his body and fill the  
room," said D'Arcy Kiewel, another member  
of the squad and a rookie Hit Wizard. "That kind of  
thing doesn't happen with that spell, shouldn't happen.  
Although I've never seen one, it reminded me of  
what a kamikaze spell is supposed to look like."  


The fourth member of the squad, Davoren Chillingworth,  
had the last word on the matter in the interview. "He  
probably did kill himself. Voldemort cut a pitiful figure  
--demented, senile, weak, just a wreck of a man.  
I guess living his half-life just wasn't worth it anymore."  


At this point it would be impossible to tell whether the  
Dark wizard died at his own hand or from the Hit  
Wizards' attack. Either way, the entire magical community  
is celebrating the death of this man, who racked up the  
highest count of murders in recorded history.  


"The school governors and I have agreed to give the  
students a week-long holiday," said Albus Dumbledore,  
current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Wizardry  
and Witchcraft. "I believe they deserve it, considering the  
effect Voldemort had on all their lives. Also," added  
Dumbledore with a laugh, "I think it would be nigh  
impossible to keep the students from the numerous  
celebrations."  


A final quote from the entire Ministry of Magic sums  
it all up: "His death marks the end of an era stained with  
blood. We're not celebrating his death, we're celebrating  
the fact that we can finally put this entire Voldemort matter  
to rest and look toward a future filled with Light."  


Slowly, Ginny set the page down on the table. "Wow. I just can't believe he's really dead. How could he have gotten so weak?" She felt a cold chill tingle down her spine. Her last view of Voldemort, whom she knew better as Tom Riddle, had been from the bone-littered floor of the Chamber of Secrets. He had been pretty powerful then--although it was Ginny's strength he'd been using. 

"I don't know," admitted Colin, shrugging. "I would've guessed he was a lot stronger--after all, everyone's afraid to even say his name--but maybe he wasn't. You would know better than I would." 

"Not really." Ginny brushed a strand of hair from her face and propped her head up on her fists. "You're talking about the diary, right? Riddle didn't write about himself at all. It was just me and my whining." She frowned down at the table. "I can't believe I was so stupid. You'd think, with a father that investigates enchanted Muggle stuff for a living, I would've known better."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Ginny," said Colin, trying to be comforting. "It wasn't your fault Riddle enchanted you. And anyway, he's dead now, right?" He flipped open the paper and pulled out the comics section, sliding it over to Ginny. "The comics are really funny today. Do you read _Martin Miggs_?"

"Um, no," said Ginny absentmindedly, wondering at Colin's sudden and inexplicable topic change, which was most likely an attempt to cheer her up. "I don't."

"You should, it's hilarious." Colin leaned over the table and pointed out the strip. "It's all about this Muggle and his misadventures, but today the cartoonist changed it a bit...just read it."

Reluctantly--she wasn't much of a cartoon girl, nor was she in the mood--Ginny looked down to the five-frame strip labeled _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_. In the first frame was a tiny baby pointing a wand at a shaking man in a dark cloak. The baby wore glasses and had a lightning-bolt scar. Rolling her eyes, Ginny read the caption below: "1980--Young Harry Potter defeats the Dark wizard Voldemort." She went on to the next frame, which showed Harry holding a glittering Sorceror's Stone in hand. Below was: "1992--Harry thwarts Voldemort, yet again." The third frame's picture was one of Harry smiling and riding a basilisk, with Riddle shaking his fist in a threatening sort of way. Caption: "1993: And again..." Next was a frame filled with large text: "Now that Voldemort isn't making another comeback, the question is..." In the last frame, Harry was back, with a confused expression and shoulders shrugged, saying, "What will I do for a hobby now?" 

"What do you think?" asked Colin. "Funny? I thought so." It was still slightly surprising to Ginny that he wasn't scandalized. The same cartoon back in his first and second year most likely would have spurred a semi-hostile _Daily Prophet_ boycott. But about the time Ginny's hero-worshipping of Harry had escalated to an all-time high, Colin's had dropped to a dull admiration. She wasn't even sure if he still had his picture of Harry and Lockhart from first year. He probably did.

"Um, yeah, funny," she said listlessly. The comic wasn't very amusing, and the _Daily Prophet_'s headline was still screaming in her ears. How could Tom--she quickly changed that to Riddle--possibly be dead? The frail and ghostly man that was Voldemort seemed such a far cry from the young man she'd first seen in the Chamber of Secrets but known for a long time before that. Thought she'd known, that is. Ha. She drew a squiggly line in the dust on the table. With a few more strokes and two thumbprints, it had fangs and huge bulbous eyes. How could she have trusted him? Stupid. He must have been laughing at her the entire time she wrote to him, laughing when she told him of her petty troubles with her brothers, laughing when she confided her crush on Harry to him, laughing because he knew she would deliver Harry right into his hands.

And all the time, he wrote such sweet, thoughtful, kind replies, sympathizing with her and supporting her, telling her what a marvelous girl she was. And she loved him for it. Stupid. Even when she knew that he was using her, sapping the strength out of her body, she still did nothing, because she thought he cared. That he was the only one who did. Harry surely didn't care. Of course, Harry had saved her life in the end. Stupid.

When Tom--no, no, Riddle--manifested himself, her first thought had been that he was handsome--yes, handsome. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Ginny slammed her fist down and erased the tiny dust basilisk with a furious vengeance. This time she was the one laughing. Ha, ha, ha! Riddle was dead, and he wouldn't be coming back! She pounded the remains of the basilisk again.

Suddenly Colin lowered his section of the paper to peer over at Ginny, specifically her gleefully angry face and her clenched fist. He cleared his throat nervously. "Look, Ginny, I'm sorry for offending you, don't think I was trying to make fun of you or anything. I should have known you wouldn't find a strip with Harry in it funny, seeing as how you..." Again he cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Ginny stared at him for a long and bewildered moment. Why was he so apologetic all of a sudden? Understanding finally came when she noticed the comics had fallen to the floor, obviously from her table beating. She buried her face in her hands. That was Colin for you. Much too nice, aiming to please, and always clueless. "Colin," she sighed, "just because I like Harry"--Colin got a slightly bemused expression on his face, the way he did whenever she talked about Harry in an affectionate way (she chalked it up to overprotectiveness; he must've spent too much time with Ron)--doesn't mean I'd freak over a comic that pokes a little fun at him. You didn't do anything. I wasn't even thinking about it."

"Oh, well then, all right." He still looked a bit worried; Ginny decided to change the subject before he tried to apologize again.

"So, are you going to any of the celebrations?" she asked. "There must be fifty going on right now--at least it sounds like it!"

"Any excuse for a party, right?" Colin laughed. "That's the Gryffindor motto. Um, actually, I have an assignment due tomorrow for Photography Club that I haven't started yet, and since I'm the president it wouldn't look good if I didn't do it, so...I think I might just stay behind--"

"I don't want to go by myself!" exclaimed Ginny. "You have to come!"

"You could get Ron to take you--"

"Oh, that's a good idea," Ginny said sarcastically. "If I'm going to do that, I might as well just bring all my older and overprotective brothers along with me too. They don't like me even spending time with you, and it's not like you're my boyfriend or anything. Remember what Ron did when he found out Seamus was going to ask me out?" 

"Does he still have the black eye?"

"Mm-hmm. Ron would probably even beat up Harry if he thought he liked me. I think..." 

A cartoonish image of Ron and Harry in a wrestling arena popped up in Ginny's head, along with Lee Jordan's familiar voice: "Hello, wrestling fans, and welcome to the bout of the season! Oh yeah, it's the one you've been waiting for--let's bring out our fighters! First, this Hogwarts seventh year is a hero and a poster boy for the Light side--yes, it's none other than HARRY "THE LIGHTNING BOLT" POTTER!"

Clad in a long red cape embroidered with a golden lightning bolt, Harry strutted out into the ring. He flung a bouquet of red roses into the crowd, at which point all the females promptly fainted.

"Ooh, a ladies' man!" crooned Jordan. "And still undefeated! But will his competitor be the one to break that streak? Known for extreme hostility toward his little sister's suitors, he's a fellow Hogwarts seventh year, overprotective big brother, and Quidditch water boy, it's RON "THE WEASEL" WEASLEY!"

From offstage came Ron's outraged voice: "What kind of nickname is that?" He ran up to join Harry in the ring. "'The Weasel'? If you're going to put me in your dream sequence thingy, Ginny, at least give me a cool name, like 'The Destroyer' or 'The Annihilator' or something. And I'm not going to fight Harry either, it's not like you're dating him anyway. Can I fight Malfoy instead? I'll do that!"

"Ack! He even bothers me in my daydreams!" said Ginny, annoyed. She looked over at Colin pleadingly. "Can't you do the project later? I need someone to go with me and sidetrack Ron--you're good at that."

Evidently spending the night playing a game of keep-away with Ron wasn't Colin's idea of fun, judging from the expression he wore. Ginny could tell he was considering it, though. "Um, well, I don't know if I'll have enough time to finish it if I go...."

"Please?" begged Ginny. "I can't go by myself--it'll be too lonely without you! Who will I whine to?"

Colin smiled. "All right, then. If you so desperately need me, I can't refuse." He got up from his chair, beginning to walk toward the picture hole, when Ginny grabbed him by the arm.

"Stop! I'm not ready!" She dashed up to her dormitory, dragging Colin along with her. "I haven't even combed my hair yet--"

"It looks fine, really--" began Colin.

"No, it doesn't!" Ginny rapped the sixth year girls' dorm room door sharply. "Is anyone inside?" There was no answer, only silence. "Guess they all must be at the party. You can come in, if you want. I don't mind."

"Um, well...." Peeking inside the room quickly to make sure he wouldn't be put in any awkward situations, Colin tentatively stepped into the dormitory. Meanwhile, Ginny ran into the bathroom and yanked open her drawer, which was filled with combs, brushes, hair potions, and an array of yummy-smelling things. Choosing a brush, she pulled out her pigtails and began the arduous job of combing through her long hair. _Too bad there isn't an instant-detangle spell_, she thought, struggling with an especially stubborn knot. The hard work paid off in the end, though; her waist-length, coppery hair gleamed.

While looking at herself in the mirror, waving her hair back and forth to watch the way it shimmered under the fluorescent lights, a thought formed in the back of her mind. _I wonder if Harry will be at the party?_ Of course he would be, he usually wasn't one to pass up a celebration. Most likely, he would come with Hermione Granger at his side. She'd been his sort-of girlfriend for a long while now. 

Hermione triggered another thought: _She's not right for him._ They were compatible, sure, but the point seemed to be in another idea, one that kept floating up to the front of Ginny's mind, no matter how many times she tried to shove it back down with the flotsam and jetsam of other ill-fated ideas: _I'm right for him._

_No, no, stupid thought, go away. _It was inevitable--any thought that she tried to wipe from her mind was then lodged in there permanently. All the embarrassing moments of her life--which were innumerable and mostly centered on her relationship with Harry--were kept in spotless perfection, to recall whenever she needed a little self-esteem downer. They only came in handy to steer her away from reckless attempts at telling Harry how she felt about him.

_Remember when you wrote that poem, "Fresh Pickled Toad", and the dwarf sang it to him? He was so mortified, probably because your poem was horrifically bad..._

_I was only a first year! Besides, I'm right for him; Hermione's not! Even if she can write poetry!_

_How about when you sat next to him at lunch, but you got so nervous you spilled tomato soup all over him?_

_Well, at least it matched his Quidditch robe! Just because Hermione's more graceful than I am doesn't mean anything!_

_Think you can outsmart yourself, eh? What about the day when you thought you'd tidy up his broom as a favor, but you slathered on super glue instead of broom polish--_

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

_Hahaha! His robe was stuck to the broom, and McGonagall had to cut him out!_

_It was an accident! It could have happened to anyone!_

_You're having a conversation with yourself again. Harry prefers girls who still have their sanity. Think about it._

_About what?_

_Even if--by some freak miracle--Harry was interested in you, you'd still be as neurotic as you are now._

"I'm _not_ neurotic!"

_Oh yes, you are. You argue with yourself, out loud, may I mention--"_

"What?!" Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth and pivoted around. Fortunately, Colin was on the other side of the room. She turned back to the mirror and had just started to brush her teeth when the pesky little voice started up again.

_You only did it once. But that's bad enough. It's not like you don't already act like a hopeless ditz around Harry--_

_No, I don't..._ Her brain threw a wad of blush-worthy memories at her and laughed. _Well, maybe I do, but it's justified. He's Harry!_

_--and if you start talking to yourself around him, they'll probably throw you in the loony bin with Lockhart. You get nervous enough just sitting next to him, what if you actually had to, God forbid, start a conversation with him?_

_I started a conversation with him before!_

_A conversation consists of more than "Hi, Harry!"_

"Oh, shut up! I don't want to hear it!" 

_You talked out loud again, you think Harry might actually have a romantic interest in you, and now you're telling yourself to shut up--you really are crazy._

"I'm not listening anymore!" She looked around for something distracting, then remembered Colin.

"Hey, Colin, where'd you go?" When the door was open, the bathroom mirror reflected an image of the bedroom. Ginny searched in the mirror to catch a glimpse of Colin and found him, sitting on the edge of her bed. Suddenly, as if remembering that he was committing some great, scandalous crime, he leapt up to his feet, looking around anxiously. "Colin, I don't care if you sit on my bed," Ginny reassured him. He was blushing madly, and--like Ron--his ears had turned an amazing shade of scarlet. 

"No, no, I think I'll just sit on...the floor, er, I guess--maybe I shouldn't be in here, what if someone comes in?" 

"Trust me, no one's going to care if you're in here. Everyone's at the party anyway," said Ginny. "Which is why we need to hurry up and get going."

Just then the pesky voice began whispering in her ear again: _Why would you need to hurry, there's no reason for you to go anyway? You'll just be standing in the corner, sipping punch made by first years and watching Harry and Hermione burn up the dance floor..._

"All right, I'm ready," said Colin.

_...hoping that maybe he likes you. Then he'll come up to you and you'll think he's going to profess his secret love for you, but he'll just be wanting a punch refill..._

"Ahem, Ginny?"

_You're the crummy first year punch, and Hermione's the champagne. See, you can't even think of good analogies! How could Harry ever like you?_

"Ginny?"

She swiveled around suddenly from the mirror and fixed Colin with an intense, serious stare. "Colin, am I the crummy first year punch?"

Absolutely bewildered, Colin gawked at her, thanking the gods that he was not female. "Um, Ginny, I think I missed something here..."

"Am I the crummy first year punch? You know, the kind that has chunks of old, rotting fruit in it, the kind that leaves a really bad taste in your mouth after you drink it? Am I that, or am I the champagne?"

"Um, I don't really know what you're talking about," said Colin, in an almost desperate voice. "I don't think you're any sort of beverage...."

"Oh, come on, don't be so daft! Am I the stupid, whiny, not-good-enough-for-Harry punch or the intelligent, witty, beautiful, perfectionist champagne?" she repeated. 

"Well, um, I guess you're champagne, then--is that the right answer?" 

"No," she said, while shaking her head up and down. "Oh, cripes, I think I'm going mad. Do you think I'm going mad?" Ginny looked up at him pleadingly. "I'm not, am I?"

"Of course not.... I think you should probably get out of this room," said Colin, with an offhand look to Ginny's cosmetics drawer. "The perfumes might be going to your head...." He took her by the hand and led her out of the bathroom, down to the common room.

"That doesn't sound very convincing, Colin," said Ginny. She planted her feet firmly on the steps leading to the common room. "Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Boy-crazy...no, make that Harry-crazy," he muttered softly. What Ginny heard was, "No, you're not crazy, you're probably just still shocked about Voldemort's death, and that's why you're acting a bit strangely. I talk to myself, too--just not out loud."

"Maybe that's it," said Ginny. "I usually don't think out loud either. Thanks, Colin. You're probably right, it was Riddle..." 

_That reminds me, I can't believe you actually trusted Riddle,_ came the pesky, accusing voice. _Harry almost died because of you--_

_Shut up! Riddle's dead now, remember? And Harry's still alive! Don't ruin my night!_ Ginny blocked the pesky voice from her mind and smiled over at Colin. She linked her arm in his. "Are you ready to do some celebrating?"

His eyes darted from their arms back to Ginny's face. "Um, yes! Absolutely! Let's go!"

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	2. Default Chapter Title

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Afraid of the Dark  
Chapter 2: Dance Macabre  
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The cacophonous strains of wizarding music wafted through the hallways like a siren song, drawing students and faculty into the Great Hall. Ginny vaguely recognized the singing voice as belonging to Celestina Warbeck, one of her favorite artists. Just over the sound of music could be heard loud laughing and giggling.

"Sounds like fun," said Colin, in a squeaky voice. His eyes kept darting back to Ginny's arm, linked in his, as if it were some sort of freakish appendage that he just could not tear his amazed gaze away from. Ginny noticed this and carefully removed the offending arm, placing it back at her side.

"It sounds like the whole school came out," she replied. They reached the open doors of the Great Hall and peered inside. "And it looks like it, too." The Hall was absolutely swarming with students, from the small first years in pointed hats to the seventh years, collected in small circles and talking loudly with the authority of being oldest. Streamers floated downward from the enchanted ceiling, adorning the hair of many oblivious partygoers. And, of course, there was the obligatory jumbo-sized punch bowl, manned by cheerful first years and bobbing with brown chunks of anonymous fruit.

Ginny plucked a white streamer from her hair and stepped into the Hall, trailed by Colin. She clapped her hands over her ears almost immediately. Outside, the noise was loud; inside, it was deafening. "Ack!" she cried. "I can't hear myself think!"

Colin mouthed something--she couldn't hear his words--and pointed over the crowd to a more secluded spot by a gathering of pensive fifth year prefects. He worked his way through the masses of people and motioned for Ginny to follow his lead, which she did, all the way across the Hall to the other side.

"Blimey," he said, coughing, when they finally were able to hear their own thoughts again. "I thought it was going to be a party, not a, a--" He waved his hand out toward the crowd. "That," he finished.

"A blob?" asked Ginny. Colin laughed.

"Yeah. I never knew there were so many first years. Or so much punch." He paused. "Reminds me why I don't go to these things."

Ginny sauntered over to the nearby wall and leaned against it. She scanned the crowd for a glimpse of anyone she knew--especially one person in particular--but saw nothing but scads and scads of the ever-present, party-loving first years. Colin joined her by the wall a few moments later, with a streamer lodged in his curly head of hair. "So," she said, "are you looking for anyone?"

Colin shook his head. "I don't really know. I don't think so. Are you looking for someone?" It wasn't really a question.

"Sort of," she answered in a conspiratorial whisper. "You know. If he's here. I think he is, somewhere. He should be, anyway. With Hermione."

"Harry?" Once again, it wasn't a question. He'd known since first year who 'he' was.

"Mm-hm." Her sentences got shorter and shorter as she got jittery just thinking about him. Unconsciously, her foot began to tap up and down on the smooth stone floor. "Harry."

Colin nodded, with the grave look of a young man who was looking forward to an evening playing keep-away with 6-foot-4 of overbearing Weasley and discussing boys with his best female friend. Understandably, he looked somewhat depressed. "So...Harry."

"Yes, Harry!" Ginny sighed in a longsuffering sort of way. "How many times do I have to say his name! You should know without me having to tell you, after six years! Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry!"

"...Sorry," Colin said meekly.

"Why? You didn't do anything! What did you do?"

"Um, I said Harry too many times?" 

Ginny sighed again and leaned her head back to rest on the wall, so she was looking straight up at the enchanted ceiling. Outside, the sky was glittering with the light of a thousand stars and the glowing moon. _How romantic_, she thought. _The perfect night to tell Harry..._

The voice in her head, always alert for emergencies such as this, was up and in arms. _What?_ it yelped. _You've had too much butterbeer. Stop thinking crazy thoughts._

_Butterbeer is a non-alcoholic beverage_, thought Ginny, quite proud of herself until she realized she was engaged in one of those exasperating self-conversations again. _Anyway, I have to tell him eventually. It might as well be tonight._

_Do you have a suicide wish? Because if you go over there and try to even talk to The Great Sir Potter, you'll have an anxiety attack. Or a heart attack. Maybe both at once. I don't think Harry will be too attracted to a girl that has to be floated off to the hospital wing every time she opens her mouth._

_The Great Sir Potter?_

_Mm-hm. The boy who lived. The one who defeated Voldemort. Youngest Seeker in a century, probably the best Seeker ever, captain of the famous Gryffindor team, Head Boy, secretly admired by at least half of the female population--_

_What's the point?_

_Oh, yes, and he has "saved the world" as a bullet point on his resume. Make that a bullet point for every year he's been here, plus one for when he defeated Voldemort as a baby. Now that Voldemort's dead, he'll probably be linked to it somehow. At this rate, it won't be long until his face is on the cover of _Witch Weekly_. You're pretty conceited to think you have a chance with him._

_He's not, like, some big hero!... Well, he is, but he doesn't act like one. He could if he wanted to, but he doesn't. That's really special._

_Oh, how touching!_ The voice took on a saccharine motherly tone. _Ginny, hon, if Miss-Granger-The-Perfect isn't even good enough for him--which you admit that she isn't--how could you possibly be The One? And if the most intelligent, most sophisticated, most witty, most beautiful girl at Hogwarts is dating him, how could a whiny, B-average, freckle-faced, stick-thin, neurotic little kid such as yourself be any competition?_

Ginny started to protest in anger that she was _not_ whiny, that she was thin but _not_ stick-thin, that she happened to like her freckles on good days, that she was getting a 3.97 GPA, which was so close to all A's that it practically _was_ all A's, and that she really was smart--just look at her O.W.L. results!--but it was pointless. What was the good in arguing with oneself? If she continued, she'd have to concede that she was neurotic.

"Hey, Colin? Am I..." She twisted her head over to where Colin had been standing a minute ago. "Colin?" Gone. Not like she could blame him, though. Ginny felt the overbearing weight of being all alone in a crowd pressing down on her chest. "Colin?" After growing up in a house with six talkative brothers and two bustling parents, she wasn't used to being lonely. It was unsettling to be a loner in a crowd so large. She stood up on tiptoes--the Weasley height gene had seemingly skipped over her, she was a mere 5' 7--and tried to catch a glimpse of someone she knew. Over by the south wall, she spotted a large congregation of seventh years, sprinkled with sixth years. In the gathering was a kindred fiery redhead--had to be Ron, she figured. _And where there's fire, there's smoke..._ Yup, sure enough, a dusky head of wild hair was in there too. It had to be Harry, of course--no one else, at Hogwarts or anywhere else, had hair made up entirely of cowlicks. She decided to go over to the familiar group. Surely a conversation could be struck up, with Ron even, if need be (better than standing all alone!) and, if she worked up the courage to talk to Harry, then...who knew what could happen?

Making sure to avoid the gregarious first years and their Punch Bowl O' Death, Ginny sucked in all her breath and squeezed through the thick crowds. "Crikey," she muttered. "Too many people." The air was thick with music, perfume, and sweat. She wished that it would clear out a bit--no, clear out entirely, so it was just Harry and her, together under the starry evening sky...

The annoying voice guffawed, breaking Ginny abruptly from wistful dreams. A sharp jab in the side urged her to keep moving through the crowd. She did, and broke out at the south end, sitting down at a side table and smoothing down her hair, wondering if there was an enchantment to tame flyaways. Reflecting that Harry needed it much more than she did, her thoughts were just about to return to the subject of the night--Harry--when she was disturbed by the presence of someone sitting very close by. She whipped her head around to see who it was; unfortunately, her hair followed her head's lead and blinded her entirely. Two intruding fingers poked through the curtain of hair and split it apart, and Ginny found herself nose-to-nose with Seamus Finnigan.

"Hullo, Ginny," he chortled. "Having a bit of hair trouble?" He slipped his fingers in underneath her hair and tucked it back behind her ears. And his hands just stayed there, resting on the sides of her head. It reminded Ginny of why the Gryffindor girls had christened the sandy-haired boy 'Octopus'. 

"Sod off, Seamus," she muttered, scooting away from him and his hands. He simply laughed and slid down the bench closer to her. 

"So, how are you doing, Gin? Haven't seen you around lately..." Seamus curled a lock of Ginny's hair around his finger, smirking all the while.

_Don't call me Gin, you smarmy idiot_, she thought angrily. Seamus considered himself to be quite the ladies' man, and as of late had been striving to write the name of Ginny's owl in his little black book. Then Seamus made the grave mistake of telling Ron his aspiration. A faint black-and-blue ring still lingered around his right eye--no, both his eyes, noticed Ginny, marveling at Ron's thoroughness.

"Gin?" repeated Seamus. She wrenched the strand of hair from his slimy fingers.

"Call me Gin again and you'll get another pair of black eyes, Finnigan," Ginny told him. This only egged Seamus on.

"Playing hard-to-get, eh? I like that." He grinned with what he must have thought was a winning look. It made him look a bit like Lockhart, if Lockhart had sandy hair and freckles. But the smarminess was exactly the same.

"Leave me alone. I don't like you and I don't want to talk to you and I don't want you anywhere near me."

"Really." The arrogant Casanova slithered his tentacle-like arm around her shoulders. "So, Gin. D'you want to get out of here, maybe head down to Hogsmeade and pick up some butterbeer? I'd like to go somewhere more...quiet, if you get my drift."

"No," said Ginny flatly. "I told you I don't like you about a jillion times. Go bother some other lucky girl." Why couldn't it be Harry lavishing his affections on her, instead of Seamus the Smarmy? Then again, Harry's idea of romantic was probably catching a game of Quidditch--which, when she thought about it, was much preferable to any evening under the stars with Octopus Boy. 

"So, you'll go then, luv?" It was amazing the way his mind filtered things.

"You are the most smarmy idiot I have ever met in my life," she said honestly. It was the truth.

"I get that all the time," he said, totally nonchalant.

Ginny decided at that point to take a different approach. "It's not that I don't like you. You're just...not my type." 

"So, then, who is your type?" Seamus replied, thinking he was humoring her.

_Hmm, let's see, boys with messy black hair, tousled from windy Quidditch games, and incredible jade green eyes that glitter behind glasses, and don't forget the dashing lightning-bolt scar..._ "Anyone but you," she answered. "But don't feel too bad about it. I'm pretty choosy."

"You can't play hard-to-get all night, luv. Everyone gives in eventually."

"Finnigan, you are such an idiot!" The grand party wasn't exactly turning out the way she had hoped. If she wanted to talk to Harry, she needed to get rid of Seamus. But how? 

The idea was simple yet beautiful. Ginny leaned her head on Seamus's shoulder and murmured, "You're right, Seamus. You're perfectly irresistible. Let's get out of here."

Seamus grinned triumphantly. "All right, then! That's what I was waiting for! I knew you couldn't hold out for long!" It was ridiculous how conceited he was. Ginny barely managed to stifle her giggles. "To the Three Broomsticks then, luv?" 

"Mm-hm." No sooner had he got up than she found his arm around her back. Ginny cringed but said nothing. If the plan was going to work, she had to ignore her gut instinct, which urged her to karate-chop that arm right off. She wrapped her arm round his back and steered him toward the exit. Standing right by the double doors was her beloved older brother. _Ron, I've never been happier to see you._

Ginny pushed Seamus right up to the doors and in Ron's face. Just as he turned to look at them, she yanked her arm back at her side. Before Seamus had a chance to protest, she whined, "Ron, please help me. I asked Seamus to leave me alone, but he won't go away. I told him that you'd beat him up, and he said you're just a big weasel."

"What's that, luv?" Seamus asked anxiously. "I--I never said any of that, right, Gin? Tell Ron that!"

She whispered, "Don't call me Gin," and shoved him toward Ron, who might have actually had steam coming out of his reddening ears.

"Seamus! Didn't I tell you to stay away from Ginny?!" Ron grabbed Seamus by the arm, telling Lavender he'd be right back, and pushed him out the door. He paused a moment to tell Ginny, "He won't be bothering you anymore," and then ran out after Seamus, yelling "We'll see who the big weasel is!"

The small crowd that had gathered around, always eager for a fight, disappeared, leaving Ginny alone with Harry...and about ten other people, including Hermione. She sat down at the end of the bench and wondered where Colin had gone. With him, who knew? He tended to get flighty like that. 

Ginny pretended to busy herself with fixing her hair, while trying to catch snippets of the ongoing conversation between Harry and Hermione. As usual, it was about Quidditch, specifically the big Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match the night before. 

"--so the Snitch was actually above her head--"

"--unbelievable catch, really, I couldn't believe it--"

"--with Cho gone, Ravenclaw's a pushover--"

"--you think? Quidditch isn't my area of expertise--"

Harry laughed, grinning widely. "Everything is your area of expertise, Hermione."

"You're exaggerating," said Hermione, acting very humble. Ginny sniffed. _She's just fishing for compliments._

"Didn't you get the highest score on the O.W.L. test ever?"

Hermione blushed to a light pink. "Well, we'll just have to see how we do on the N.E.W.T."

_Right_, thought Ginny. _Like you won't get another hundred and sixty percent on the N.E.W.T. Why won't you go away so I can talk to Harry?_ The very notion made her foot start tapping again.

"--anyway, in Arithmancy we were talking about--"

"--Arithmancy? Now there is something that is not my area of expertise," said Harry.

"--well, it's not that difficult, you just have to take the vectors and--" Hermione pulled a piece of parchment and an inked quill from her pocket and started to show Harry the wonders of Arithmancy.

_What kind of person brings a quill and parchment with her wherever she goes?_ Ginny felt a migraine headache coming on. She laid her head down on the table and groaned. _What kind of person talks about Arithmancy at a party? Talk about Quidditch, talk about brooms, talk about other people, even talk about Riddle being dead if you want to, but Arithmancy?_

_Smart people talk about Arithmancy._

_I'm smart, but you don't hear me going on about vectors and planes and variables and all that!_

_Didn't you flunk your last Arithmancy quiz? 16%, wasn't it?_

Ginny felt blood rising in her cheeks when she thought of the lecture Professor Vector had given her. _Still. I think Harry would rather be talking about other things. I mean, who wants to talk about Arithmancy, of all things..._

Hermione was writing out a long string of numbers and letters, while Harry leaned over her, pretending to watch intently while playing with a strand of her thick brown hair. He said something that made Hermione drop her quill and start giggling madly. Ginny would have given up all her Galleons to know what it was, but then, she didn't have that many Galleons anyway.

_Looks like he's having a grand old time_, chuckled the voice. Harry whispered something else in Hermione's ear.

"It's not fair," whined Ginny, her face pressed against the table. "It's just not fair."

_Face it, dearie. It's not going to happen. You're fated to spend all eternity with people like Seamus._

Ginny sat there, alone and melancholy, listening to Harry and Hermione's laughter. She was having a vision of herself in the Old Witches' Home being chased around by a bald, elderly Seamus, when a poke in the shoulder broke her from her dream. She looked up to see Colin smiling down at her. "Where have you been?" she moaned. "I'm in the depths of depression and you've been..."

"Sorry. You were just standing there, and I thought you didn't want to be bothered. So I went off, and Celeste and Michele and Candie and Lilianya came up to me, and--"

"You've been flirting," said Ginny slowly, "while I've been here, wishing a giant hole in the ground would open up and swallow me because I can't even work up the courage to tell the boy that I like how I feel about him."

"Me, flirting? No, no. I just needed some subjects for my Photography Club project, and they offered to do it," said Colin sincerely.

"Sounds like you're having a better time than I am. Not like it would take much."

"Not really. I wouldn't've asked them, except you didn't want to do it. Remember?

"Yes. I told you I wasn't photogenic."

"Sure, you are! Don't be so--" Colin hesitated. "Oh, yeah, before I forget, I was walking by some first years and..." He set a Magifoam cup on the table in front of Ginny. "Do you want any punch?"

She sighed. It was the thought that counted, right? "Thanks, Colin." Ginny pulled the cup close to her and looked down into the murky red substance. Chunks of fruit floated around listlessly in the thick goop. Was that a hair? She was about to take a reluctant sip when again she heard Harry and Hermione laughing. How depressing.

"Sounds like they're having a good time," said Colin. "Oh, is that Ron, over there? He looks happy. Wonder why? Blimey, I was supposed to be watching him, wasn't I? Sorry. Did that cause a problem? I hope not."

He blathered on and on. Ginny watched Hermione, glowing with happiness, talking in an excited voice to Harry. She looked from her to the punch and back again. Punch--Hermione. Hermione--punch. Suddenly she shoved the punch cup away from her. "Colin?"

"--I'm thinking about using black-and-white, but--what's that, Ginny?" 

"Colin, I think I have had an epiphany," she announced.

"Huh? An epipha-what?"

"Epiphany. Mm-hm. My very first epiphany." Ginny jumped up from her bench seat, wearing a look of fresh determination.

"Um...could you clarify that for me?"

"I'm not the first year punch. I'm just as worthy of Harry as Hermione is and there's no point in sitting here feeling sorry for myself, slurping punch and making myself into what I'm not, when I could be out there telling Harry how I feel about him."

"Well, I'm not sure if I understand, but..." 

"So! I--am--going--to do it!" She nodded solemnly. "Right this minute!"

"I still don't understand, but whatever you want to do is fine with me."

She ruffled his hair in parting. "Thanks, Colin. Wish me luck." And so began the longest walk of Ginny's sixteen years--the three meters over to where Harry sat.

The voice in her head went up to Howler level. _Don't do it! You'll make a fool of yourself! Do you want to die a premature death from embarrassment?_

_No one ever died of embarrassment. I think._

_Ack! Only two meters away now! One meter! Half a meter! Run, while you've still got the chance!_

Ginny took a deep gulp of air and said, "Hello, Harry."

_No! It's too late!_

Harry smiled and said, "Hi, Ginny. I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know...stuff."

_I can do this. I can do this. I can do this._

_No you can't!_

"So," said Hermione, "What is it?"

Her fingers started to tremble involuntarily. She jammed her hands behind her back and forced a non-nervous look on her face. "Um, well, actually, I was wondering if I could talk to Harry about, uh, some help I need in--" She blurted out the first word in her mind, which was, "apples."

_No! What did you say that for? You blew it!_

"Silly me, I mean Arithmancy," corrected Ginny in a rush. "Yes, that's it, Arithmancy."

"Maybe you should ask Hermione about that," Harry suggested. "I'm getting a C in Arithmancy."

"I'd be happy to help," offered Hermione, pushing the piece of parchment toward Ginny. "Harry and I were just talking about it--"

_I don't need any help from you._ "Um, actually, what I meant to say was Divination. You don't take Divination, do you, Hermione?"

"No.... Are you feeling all right, Ginny? You look a bit red in the face."

"Oh, I'm fine, just fine," she stammered. "Anyway, Harry, it's really, really important, so I think we should talk about it outside. Alone."

"Why? It doesn't matter if Hermione hears, does it?" asked Harry innocently.

_No, Harry! What did you have to go and say that for?_

"Well, um, Professor Trelawney predicted that you were going to die again, and that's something you can't really talk about in a big group, well, this isn't exactly a big group, because it's just you and me...and Hermione, but I think you know what I mean, you know, it's kind of personal, dying and all...with the death...and all that...uh..."

_Stop rambling and take a deep breath...deep breath...in and out, in and out..."_

"Oh, is that all? That must be the fifth time she's predicted my death. Do I look dead to you?" said Harry, laughing it off. "I'm not worried about it."

Between gulps of breath, Ginny wheezed out, "Just, I--just--need--to talk--to you--_alone_. All right?"

Hermione's right eyebrow arched ever so slightly. "What is it? Is it something about me?"

"No, it's--it's nothing like that at all. Really. I'll bring him right back. It's not like we're planning to run off to Majorca or anything!"

_Oh, that was real bright, Ginny. Make a joke about running off together in front of his girlfriend. Smooth._

Ginny laughed weakly at the joke; Harry chuckled a bit and fell silent; and Hermione's other eyebrow shot up.

"Well, you two go off and talk about whatever it is you need to talk about. I'm not going anywhere in a hurry," said Hermione, somewhat cross. "Just come back soon, okay, Harry?"

"Oh, sure, I'll be back in a second." Harry smoothed down Hermione's hair affectionately, then joined up with Ginny. They walked at an equal stride. "Is this something about Hermione?" he asked.

"Er, sort of, but not really." Ginny rubbed the toe of her shoe into the ancient stone floor, afraid to look at Harry lest she have a klutz fit or worse. "D'you mind if we go outside to talk about this? Like, actually _outside_?"

"Something that important? Sure, I don't mind," replied laid-back Harry. 

_Oh my God, oh my God, I think I'm going to die, no, I am going to die, he's only a wand's length away from me!_

"Don't mind Hermione," said Harry, just as they left the Great Hall. "She's been a bit edgy lately, with the N.E.W.T. coming up soon."

"Oh, that's all right, I totally understand," said Ginny, in all honesty. _Why wouldn't she be cross? She probably knows what I'm up to; Hermione knows everything. I wouldn't be too happy if someone was stealing my boyfriend..._

They walked past a statue of Helga Hufflepuff and turned a corner, still side by side. As usually occurs when something good happens, guilty thoughts began to seep into Ginny's brain. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it as a flood.

_What?! I'm stealing Hermione's boyfriend! I'm a boyfriend stealer! I'm one of those girls everyone hates! Oh, no, I can't do this to Hermione! I don't like her very much, but snatching her boyfriend from right under her nose after just talking to her and being friendly--oh, Mum would be so ashamed of me! And they like each other so much, too! I could be breaking up a potential marriage! Ohh...I think I'm going to be sick..._

Then the glorious, wonderful, conscience-saving rationalizations came with their seductive whispers. _She's not right for him anyway. They're completely different people with completely different interests. Does Harry ever study for the sheer fun of it? Has Hermione ever watched a Quidditch game that didn't have Harry and the Gryffindor team in it? It wouldn't have lasted another week. So it's not really stealing Harry away from Hermione, it's just bringing around what was going to happen eventually anyway. It'll be better for them both in the end. They need to find people that share their interests. I share all Harry's interests, right? Hermione will find some Ravenclaw boy, and everything will be as it should be._

The tide of nausea about to sweep Ginny away slowly receded to a dull pain in her chest. _Yes, it's not really stealing, it's just...bringing around the inevitable. Maybe someday Hermione will even be grateful to me._ She knew the last was self-delusion, but wasn't everything else the truth? In any case, it was too late for regrets. They were standing before the side exit. Harry swung open the door, saying, "After you," and they both walked out into the night.

Outside, it was as bright with stars as Ginny had noticed from the Great Hall, but the sky was readily becoming dark with ominous clouds. She shivered in the chilly night air, compelling Harry to take one of his layered sweaters off and wrap it around her shoulders. "Is it too cold out here?" he asked. "We can go back in, if you'd like."

She didn't want him to think she couldn't take a little cold after he'd played Quidditch in a blizzard, a monsoon, and a 125-degree heat wave. "No, I'm perfectly fine." She tightened the sweater's grip around her anyway. It smelled like earth and tangerines, oddly enough. The mixture made her feel light-headed, but in a good sort of way. Maybe it was from being so close to Harry, she thought. A soft drizzle of rain dripped down from the sky.

"So, we're about as alone as we can get. What is it you wanted to talk to me about, Gin?" Somehow, Harry calling her Gin seemed kind, even affectionate, whereas when Seamus did it, it seemed...well, smarmy.

"I wanted to tell you that..." She wondered how to start when she could barely even breathe. Harry stood in front of her, his outline misty in the steadily falling rain, waiting patiently for her to tell her whatever it was that she needed to say. "Oh, I don't really know how to start..."

He smiled kindly at her, his jade green eyes glowing with warmth stronger than the evening's rain. "I'll wait for you."

The dam that took six years to build fell in a single second. Words began to spill from Ginny's mouth. "Harry, I know this may be sudden, and I know I've waited so long--too long--to tell you, but I really care about you. We've been like brother and sister for a long time now, since you're friends with Ron, but now it seems...different. It's always seemed like more than that, even when I was a first year. I guess I've always had a bit of a crush on you, but then, most girls did. But eventually they found someone else to care about, and I've just stayed the same...for all these years." Ginny paused to take a breath. "I know I'm only sixteen, and I don't really know that much about love and romance and all that. But I think...I think I'm in love with you."

Harry's mouth hung open slightly. He stammered for words to say, while Ginny watched him expectantly, holding out her heart in trembling hands and waiting, waiting for him to push her away or to take her into her arms, waiting for anything but the silence that hung thick in the air like a curtain between them. Slowly and deliberately, he took off his glasses and wiped them clean with smooth circular movements, so calm Ginny thought she might scream.

"Harry, please say something!" cried Ginny. "I just poured out my heart to you and you're cleaning your glasses!"

He rose his head up slightly. Behind them, thunder rumbled dangerously in the heavens. The drizzle became a downpour pooling around Ginny's feet.

"Harry, what's wrong? You owe it to me to say something!"

"That's just it," said Harry. "I don't know what to say. I don't know what to tell you. I, I can't think right now. Just give me a moment." He resumed cleaning his glasses, turning his back on Ginny.

A bolt of lightning struck the ground, illuminating the sky with light for a split second, then leaving everything in darkness again. "Harry. You can't do this to me. You can't just...oh God, oh God..."

_I'm the one that can't think. I can't breathe, I can't see, I can't think, I can't do anything but wait._ She had the odd thought that maybe she would be standing in that very spot for all eternity, waiting and waiting for the answer that would never come, and spring would come and flowers would grow all over her body and still she would be waiting for Harry to say something, anything.

Harry turned around and looked her in the eyes. His face was so sad Ginny thought she might start crying for him and herself, a flood of tears that would wash her away into oblivion. "Oh, Ginny, I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you."

Her body went cold and numb, all except for her heart, which ached with a queer, throbbing pain. In an unnaturally high voice, she sang, "That's not the answer I was hoping for, Harry." 

"What am I supposed to say? I love you, but not in that sort of way. I've always thought of you as my little sister, the little sister I never had."

"Never...in any other way? Not even once?"

Harry shook his head reluctantly. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I never saw this coming. You know how I feel about Hermione. I'm surprised at you that you would tell me this now, of all times." He kicked a stray branch away from his feet.

More thunder shook the sky, this time right above Hogwarts. The obsidian night was ripped into shreds by a sudden onslaught of lightning. "I have a right to tell you whenever I want!"

"Ginny, how many times do I have to say it? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Harry sighed heavily, not able to meet her eyes anymore.

_No, I won't let him see me cry, I won't cry, I won't..._ A single tear ran down her cheek, leaving a warm, wet streak where it had fallen. Harry reached out, as if to brush it away; she pushed his hand back. "Please," she said. "Don't touch me."

"Look, you'll get over it eventually. Everyone goes through this at some time or another. I understand what you're going through, and--"

"No, you don't," Ginny said, in the same shrill voice, pain lacing her tone with bitterness. "You can't possibly understand. Do you know what it's like to lie awake all night long, sobbing into your pillow because the boy you're madly in love with barely knows you're alive? Do you know what it's like to watch him holding someone's hand, laughing with someone else, kissing someone else, when that's all you think about, all you ever think about? Can you even understand living like that for nearly six years, loving someone but not being able to tell him because you're so afraid of being rejected? And when you finally work up the courage to tell him, to pour out the words that you've wanted to say for so long, he simply says, 'I'm sorry'? What is that? 'I'm sorry'? It's not enough, Harry. If you understood, you'd know that. But you don't understand," she laughed. "You'll never understand."

"Ginny, I--"

"I'm sorry, too." Before the inevitable tears came, she turned and ran, ran blindly through the rain and the thunder, chased by a pursuer that wasn't there, with Harry's sweater flying out, cape-like, behind her. She ripped it from her shoulders and flung it on the slick muddy grass, still running, colliding right into the front door and heaving it open quickly, running past all the people with their glaring, accusing eyes, running until she collapsed to the unforgiving ground and wept six years of heartbreak onto the dusty floor.

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	3. Default Chapter Title

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A/N: Yawn...still sleepy. Anyway. Sorry for the veddy veddy long delay 'tween chapters. I'm not even going to go into the many many reasons for that; let's just say I've been busy and I have a newfound hatred for vacuum cleaners. On a different note...is everybody ready for _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_?! Only two more days until I can get my HP fix! Y'know, I have a sneaking suspicion that Ginny's going to be the one to die. I don't know why, I just do...  
  
Disclaimer: Although I really really wish I owned these charas, I don't. J.K.R. does. And if you haven't figured that out by now, I pity you.

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Afraid of the Dark  
Chapter 3: Ginny on the Rocks  
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The celebrations continued long into the night. Everyone had a reason to celebrate; after all, the most evil wizard in their generation had actually died, not just been defeated but was truly and utterly dead. People afraid to speak his name for all their lives now could say it with a carefree laugh, and they did. What was to fear in a ghost? The lives of Voldemort's victims were avenged. Other Dark wizards still lingering in England would without a doubt note their leader's sad demise and flee from such a pitiful death. It was a testimony that good really would triumph over evil, in the end.

And Ginny Weasley, only aged sixteen but one whose life had been scarred by Voldemort many times already, one who had just as much cause to rejoice his death as anyone else--probably more--was curled up into a tight huddle in the midst of an empty, dim hallway, sobbing out her troubles to an unlistening floor. She cried out, as if in pain, and slammed her fist down against the wall she leaned on. Then she quickly grasped the fist in her other hand, nursing the injury. "Ow, ow, ow," she cried. "Ow!" More tears flooded her pale, freckled face. "I can't even hit the wall right!" she shrieked. "I'm, I'm--pitiful!" No one was around to hear her; she didn't want anyone to see her in this state, but still half-hoped that someone would come by and give her some much-needed sympathy. 

"And agree with me that Harry Potter is a--a git!" she said, a little too loudly. "I don't love him, I don't even like him! I hate him! Hear that, Harry?" she shouted. "I hate you!" She hit the wall again and, as if to prove her wrong, tears flowed from her angry brown eyes. "You're nothing but a, a--" Ginny hesitated; her ears went pink. "I can't even think of a bad name to call him! What else are older brothers for?" Unfortunately, she only knew two words worthy of having her mouth cleaned out with soap. "Oh, damn! And hell, too!" It gave her an odd feeling of elation. She had never cursed before, at least not out loud. "Damn, damn, damn!" This lasted for a few minutes, but there are only so many ways you can combine the words "damn", "hell", and--in a flash of creativity--"Harry", before it gets tedious.

Drowning in tears and self-pity, she slumped down until she was lying flat on the cold floor, spread-eagled, with arms stretched out wide. The ceiling was not much to look at, so she pressed her face against the floor, thinking dark thoughts about the one who had just moments ago been the object of her undying affection. She murmured one last damn: "Damn, I messed everything up," and started bawling more of the tears that seemed to never stop.

"This is stupid! I can't cry forever!" she cried in the midst of a crying. Ginny envisioned herself graduating from Hogwarts, diploma in hand, with tears running down her cheeks; then her wedding, with Seamus lifting up her veil to see her still sobbing (not like that would be such a bad thing, if it made Seamus angry); her first day at work as a full Hogwarts professor, lecturing on Transfiguration between sniffles and moans; and herself back at the Old Witches' Home, once again being chased by Seamus and his walker, although she reckoned that crying was justifiable in this case. "Well, maybe I can cry forever, but I don't want to!" She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think of other things, happy things. It was futile. 

The corridors were still devoid of people. "Oh, Harry, I don't really hate you!" she apologized, looking up to the drab ceiling, as if Harry were up there, hiding in the piping. "I'm so sorry! It's all my fault! Please forgive me!" The ceiling listened patiently. It wasn't enough. "Wait, why should _I_ be sorry? I just told you how I felt about you, that's all! I have nothing to ask forgiveness for! It's _your_ fault, Harry!" she yelled. "You should apologize to me!" The ceiling still listened, but could offer no acceptable response. 

"Oh, crikey..." Ginny scooted closer to the protection of the solid stone wall behind her and wrapped her arms around her knees. "It's all so Confunding." She rubbed her eyes until they were red and itchy, but the tears had stopped. "Why did I even bother? I knew what he'd say all along. I've always been"--she sniffed sadly--"the little sister." Ginny hesitated, remembering something Ron had said about that once. "What was it? Oh, yeah..."

It had been right after Ron's first breakup. How old was he then--fourteen, fifteen? Pretty young, anyway. He had been going out with Parvati Patil for about a month, and he was just crazy about her. But Parvati didn't return the feeling. She broke it off with him and immediately took up with Dean Thomas. Ron, crushed by his first taste of rejection, barricaded himself in his dorm room with a case of butterbeer and a stash of other Honeydukes goodies. When the weekend was over and school began anew, Ron was still down with a case of the moody blues.

Harry had tried to get him out, in vain. "I don't know what to do," he'd told Ginny. "And Dean's afraid to go back in the dorm. Do you think you can help Ron out?" She'd been happy enough to do whatever Harry asked of her, and followed him up to the forbidden realm that was the boys' dorm room. "Ron, anyone in here?" The only answer was a soft grunt. Taking it to mean a no, Harry opened the door and stepped inside. "He's over there," he said, pointing at the one bed with its canopy of curtains surrounding it. She sighed, walked over to the four-poster, and yanked back the curtains.

Ron lay there, clad in only a pair of orange and black boxers and surrounded by empty butterbeer bottles and Chocolate Frog wrappers. His hair was in a state of disarray; a few Every Flavor beans had somehow made their way up there. On his lips was the telltale brown smudge of one who had tried to drown out his sorrows on a chocolate high. Evidently it hadn't worked; his eyes were wide open and bloodshot. "Ginny," he groaned, trying to pull the curtains back around the bed. "What are you doing in here? This is a boys' dorm."

"Yeah, Ron, I'd figured that out." She gawked at the distasteful sight her brother had become. Was this the kind of power girls had--to take an ordinary young man and turn him into something that crawled out of the Black Lagoon? Ron stared back at her, first in mocking, then to study her accusingly.

"What's that on your face?" he demanded. "Is that makeup?"

She drew back. That had been the first time she'd dared to use any. "Medication," she said, not meeting Ron's eyes. Bad excuse. In the Weasley clan, everyone knew about everyone else at all times. It was impossible for her to get sick without eight other people finding out sooner or later.

"Medication? From who, Doctor Revlon?" snapped Ron. 

"Don't take it out on me! You look quite a pretty sight yourself, Ron. And nice boxers you've got there. Chudley Cannons?"

He flushed red from the tips of his ears to his nose and pulled the bedcovers over his body. "Go away," he muttered from underneath the crimson covers. "I don't feel like talking to anyone. Just leave me alone."

"You can't stay here for the rest of your life, can you?" asked Ginny, clearing stray wrappers and bottles off the bed until there was a spot clean enough to sit on.

"Maybe I will!" He hid further underneath the sheet and sulked.

Remembering her mission, Ginny said, "So, what happened with you and Parvati?"

The bedcovers shook a bit, and Ron's head popped back out. "The worst thing possible."

"What's that?" asked Ginny, eager to know the details of this romance thing she'd heard so much about. "Tell me!"

"She said I was like a _brother_ to her."

At first Ginny didn't understand what he meant. What was so bad about _that_? Brothers weren't so bad...except they had a tendency to be overprotective...and annoying...and overprotective...and gross, and weird, and overprotective, and disgusting, and, of course, overprotective. "What, were you like, preventing her from talking to any other boys?"

"Well, yeah, I tried but she wouldn't listen. But that's not what it means."

"What does it mean?"

Ron, with all his infinite knowledge about the workings of romance, proceeded to explain. "It means that you're _nothing_. You're just someone who can be stepped all over and jerked around and messed with and if you try to stop her from flirting with Dean, well, let's just break it off, all right?" His ears were flaming red.

The explanation was disturbing, but Ginny figured he'd stuck a few extra things in there. "Is that what it really means?"

Harry intervened and said, "If a girl says she considers you to be like an older brother to her, or a guy says you're like a little sister to him, it usually means that they just want to be friends."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "because it's just a way to break it off without hurting anyone's feelings. But it still does."

"I'm still confused." 

"It means you'll never be anything but a _friend_. And probably not even that, because things will get all weird between you. You won't talk to each other anymore because it'll be so strange. And then you'll get really depressed and lock yourself in your dormitory..." Ron made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle and shoved a Chocolate Frog in his mouth whole.

Harry shook his head, looked at Ginny, and said, "It's one of those things that you actually have to go through to understand. Then you'll get it."

_Oh yeah, Harry. I get it._

Now she understood why Ron had ended up staying in his dormitory for the rest of the week, and why he looked like an escapee from the morgue when he finally came out. She felt the same way, half-alive, like something had died inside her but she wasn't quite sure what, or if she would ever get over it, and Harry. It was almost a bad thing, she felt, that she'd never had a breakup or a rejection before. Not because she was a glutton for misery; at least it would give her some experience in the area. But then, Harry had been the only one she'd ever really cared about, in that way...except for him.

_No, that was nothing._

_Riddle was nothing?_

_He bewitched me, or Confunded me, or something!_

_You never stopped writing to him, remember? He was just the greatest thing since pickled toads. Riddle didn't need to Confund you; you were already blinded by love._

"I never loved him, never!"

The memories of what she had done while she was bewitched only came back after the spell had worn off. Feathers, and blood, and shrill cries of pain, and nightmares for weeks upon weeks..._It's a lie. It's not true. I'm not listening._

_You even forgot about poor Harry for a while! Yeah, Riddle bewitched you, all right--_

Ginny clapped her hands over her ears, as if that would somehow stop her own thoughts.

_--in more ways than one._

"I don't need this right now! Riddle's dead now, do I have to keep thinking about him for the rest of my life?"

_What was it he said once? Yes...Riddle's immortal, how could he ever die?_

"Just--just--ahh!" Tears welled up again in her eyes. She clenched her eyelids shut and huddled up until she was as small as she could be, rocking back and forth slowly. "I DON'T want to think about Riddle, I DON'T want to think about chickens, I DON'T want to think about the Chamber of Secrets, and LEAST of all do I want to think about that LOUT Harry Potter!" 

"Ginny? Is that you?" Startled by the sudden voice, Ginny gasped and jerked her eyelids open to see Colin staring down at her. 

"What? Colin?" She blinked and rubbed a runaway tear from her cheek. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice shrill with sadness and surprise. "Why aren't you off with Celeste and Candie and the rest?"

Colin gave her a strange look that let her know he'd heard everything. "Blimey, where'd _you_ go off to? Were you out in the storm?" He peered closely into Ginny's face, which she tried to hide by pulling her hair over her head. 

"Don't look at me," she said, her voice muffled by a mouthful of hair. "I must be a fright."

"And your eyes are all pink and bloodshot, like you've been cry--" Colin hesitated, then started again, more subdued. "Did you talk to Harry?"

Ginny cringed under the weight of his concerned gaze, which she knew was there without even having to see it. Why did he have to come around looking for her? "Leave me alone," she pleaded. "I don't feel like talking to anyone right now."

Assuming the worst, Colin asked, "So Harry said no, then?" 

_Harry, Harry, Harry, you'll never get out of my head...._ She remained silent, afraid her voice would choke up again if she tried to say something. _Why won't I stop crying?_

"Oh..." Something brushed against her shoulder; Ginny peeked through her hair and saw that Colin had sat down next to her. 

"Look, Colin, it's nice that you left the party to be with me, but I really, really would just like to be by myself for a while."

Oblivious, Colin asked, "Are you sure you don't want to...talk about it, or something?"

_He doesn't want to talk about Harry when that's all I want to talk about, and now that I'd rather discuss magical fungi than that--that lout, Colin's playing the psychologist. Or the love doctor._ Ginny snorted through a sniffle. "Thanks, Col, really, but I just want to be left alone."

Colin didn't move from Ginny's side. Instead, he asked, "I can't believe Harry.... Are you sure?"

_Stop saying that name!_ "Yeah, I'm sure," said Ginny firmly. "I'll be fine. You go off with Celeste and Candie and the rest of your fan club and have a good time."

Colin laughed nervously, a short little burst that ended as quickly as it had begun. "Fan club, right. Um, are you sure? You don't want me to talk to Harry or anything? Or...." He hesitated, not quite knowing what to say.

_I just wish you'd leave me alone...._ "No, I don't want you to talk to Har--you know who I mean! I don't want to say his name!" Immature, yes, but anything to save her from more crying. "What good would it do? It's just that he doesn't like me!" She said it like she could care less about Harry; the choking sound she made revealed her feelings.

Still stammering for words of wisdom and/or comfort, Colin fell back on his reliable, "Are you sure?"

"How many times are you going to ask me that?" asked Ginny angrily, her voice faltering. "I'm fine! Just leave me alone!"

"But--"

"I don't want to talk about it! If you won't leave, I will! And don't follow me!" Ginny got up from her spot on the floor and stormed off without a backward glance. Only after she was sure that Colin wasn't trailing her did she stop to decide just where she was going.

Well, the party was obviously out. The last thing she needed was a bunch of overly happy people rubbing salt in her metaphorical wound. An empty classroom could make a good brooding spot, but they were all closed for the weeklong vacation. Perhaps Moaning Myrtle's haunt? No, she'd had enough of _that_ in her first year. And she didn't need to feel any more depressed than she already was.

The only acceptable place she could think of was the usually empty Astronomy deck, so Ginny found herself clomping up a neverending flight of stairs to Professor Sinistra's pride and joy--the deck. Ginny stepped out from the dim Astronomy corridor onto the deck's brittle, timeworn floor. It was deserted, as she had hoped for. She pulled up a folding chair and sat down to observe the ongoing celestial celebrations.

The storm of earlier had settled down into a comfortable drizzle, with only a few fallen trees as its legacy. Now the sky was littered with a barrage of shooting stars, most of them man-made. It seemed that everyone and her sister had come out to light fireworks in honor of Voldemort's death. Crimson and golden streaks of burning light twisted across the sky.

Ginny's eyes traced one particular star which was blazing a glorious trail from the heavens to the earth. _A shooting star. Aren't you supposed to make wishes on those? Maybe if I wish hard enough, things will be different and Harry..._

_What's the point in wishing?_ asked her more cynical half. _Wishes never come true._

"Sure they do," replied Ginny. "All the time."

_Right. All the time. Name one._

"Um, well.... I'm sure there are quite a few!"

_It's all fate, nothing else. Everything is fate._

"Fate?" repeated Ginny. 

_The way things are. The way things should be. Destiny. Remember Cinderella, and all those other fairy tales? The girl always gets the prince and they live happily ever after. Maybe Cinderella's stepsisters really loved the prince--doesn't matter! You can't have a stepsister getting a prince. It's just not right,_ finished the voice, with a touch of smug self-righteousness.

Ginny sulked, thinking of how charming Prince Harry and his princess Hermione would glide majestically down the aisle, while she watched in her tacky bridesmaid dress from the sidelines. _Great. Now I'm a stepsister, and a bridesmaid. That's about as low as you can go, fairy tale-wise._ And when they reached the priest, and he asked if anyone objected to the perfect union, she'd leap up yelling and screaming, "No! He's mine! Mine, mine, mine!" and smash her white-gloved hand through the wedding cake...

_No, I'd never do that. But it would get my message across well._

Trying to be optimistic through visions of herself in flamingo-pink taffeta bridesmaid dresses, Ginny said, "Well, things can only go up from here, right?"

Her chair collapsed beneath her.

"Ouch," she murmured, rubbing her sore back. "That can't be a good sign. All right, now things can only go up."

A rock hit her right on the nose.

"OUCH!" Ginny rubbed her injured nose so hard, she thought the freckles might have fallen off. "Stupid rocks...or someone trying to hit me!" She jumped up from the floor and looked around for any snot-nosed first years with red hands and a pile of rocks. Seeing none, she laid back down on the wooden floor. 

"So it came from the sky. A rock came from the sky and happened to hit me. A _rock_ came from the _sky_ and hit me in the nose!" She rolled her eyes. "Is the god of Really, Really Bad Days using me for target practice? Well, go ahead and hit me with your best shot, 'cause things can't possibly get any worse!"

Well, maybe things _could_ get worse. But how? Ginny closed her eyes and waited for a meteor to hit her, or a deluge of runaway hippogriffs from Care of Magical Creatures to trample her, or perhaps a horde of spiders would drop by and start crawling around in her hair. Or maybe another rock would hit her on the nose. That was bad enough.

Nothing happened. "Guess things really _can't_ get any worse now," said Ginny with a sigh. "I just have to deal with me and Harry...and my nose..." She wiped blood away from the aforementioned nose, then turning to the other problem. 

"I don't know what to do," she admitted to the starry sky. "Should I ignore him? Should I avoid him? Should I tell him off? Should I run back to him and beg at his feet?" 

Ron had done a combination of the first two to Parvati, ignoring her efforts to explain and running away at the mere mention of her name. Eventually he had gotten over that, but their friendship was never quite the same. And Ron had never bothered to tell Ginny if that method had been successful or not. Fred and George...they broke a heart a day and laughed about it afterward. She'd also thought it funny for a while. How could girls get so starry-eyed over two people as insane as that odd couple? But now she realized how callous it was. If Harry had laughed at her, she probably would have come up to the Astronomy deck to jump off it. As for Percy, Charlie, and Bill, she'd never known a lot about their love lives. The former and the latter tended to keep to themselves in matters of the heart, and Charlie was too busy chasing dragons across Romania to keep a steady girlfriend. Colin? For all she knew, he'd never had a girlfriend. But he seemed like the 'chase-her-down-and-beg-for-forgiveness-on-bended-knee' type. Her female friends, without a doubt, would advise her to tell Harry just where he could go and to forget about him. And her parents would have a fit if they knew she was even _thinking_ about the opposite sex....

"Looks like I'll have to figure this out for myself," whispered Ginny.

She sighed and stretched out on the scratchy wooden floor, resting her head on the fallen chair and watching the star shower. A streak of silver light burned across the sky, leaving a trail of platinum dust in its wake.

_I just can't believe he said no. I mean, I knew in the back of my mind that that's what he would say, but I just never thought that it would really happen. I can't even believe I told him._

The silver star curved sharply out of its path into a ninety-degree angle, odd enough for Ginny to wonder briefly and commonplace enough for her to forget it in a moment.

_You know, it took a lot of courage for me to tell him. I wonder if he respects that. He should! I nearly fainted right there!_

Overhead, the silver star looped into the shape of a rough uppercase F. 

_Maybe I shouldn't've told him I've had a crush on him for six years...if someone told me that, right out of the blue, I'd probably freak._

The F swerved into a sparkling R.

_Wow. Six years. That's more than a third of my life. Why didn't I say something before? Maybe things would have been different._

An E, and then another one, followed the silver R.

The fresh air made Ginny feel a little more clear-headed than she had back in the castle. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. _Six years. Crikey! I'd say that qualifies as first-degree obsession. Maybe I should start thinking about other boys, since--No. I'm not even going to think that name._

_Harry, Harry, Harry..._ came the immediate response.

_I can't believe he just said 'I'm sorry'. The boy I thought I knew wouldn't just blow me off like that, even if he does like Hermione better than me. Maybe...maybe it's time to gather my losses and move on._

_Yeah, right. You'll never get away from him._

_No... I think I can. What's the use in chasing him down when he's only got eyes for Hermione?_

Ginny opened her eyes and noticed with surprise that the silvery shooting star had spun into a string of sparkling letters. F-R-E-E-D-O, and now the finishing touches on the M--freedom. "Freedom?" she muttered. "From what.... Oh! Riddle! Of course. I should have known."

_You know, it seems kind of silly for me to be sitting here, moaning about Harry, when everyone else in the wizarding world is celebrating. I have a lot of reason to be celebrating, and here I am, half-wishing that a meteor would hit me so I'd know for sure the day couldn't get any worse._

She mulled this over for a moment. 

"Wait," Ginny said abruptly. "I mean, this was a pretty bad day, but any day on which the most feared Dark wizard of a generation dies can't be all bad. I could be at the party, and instead I'm crying over a boy." She wiped a bit of moisture off her cheek. "It's not like he's going to change his mind with the more crying I do. If he's going to, with all the crying I've done, he should be up here, sweeping me off my feet." 

Ginny pulled her head up from the collapsed chair and rose to sit on her knees. "I still don't feel like going to the party," she muttered. "Maybe I'll go apologize to Colin or something. And then I'll watch him get all flustered around Candie and her gang. That should be entertaining."

Rising to her feet, Ginny turned to leave the Astronomy deck, casting one last gaze to the velvety-black sky and the silver word written on it. _Yeah. If I just stay away from him for a while, and try not to think about it, I'll get over him eventually. I just have to not think about him, and not be anywhere near him, and not talk about him, and it'll get better...._

She opened the door, found herself walking right into someone's chest, stumbled, and fell to the ground.

"Ginny?" questioned a voice. 

_Oh no, oh no. Please don't let it be him. Please, please, please._ An earthy citrus smell filled her nose and gave her that same light-headed feeling she'd experienced earlier in the evening. _No. It's not him, I'll just open my eyes and it'll be Colin to bother me or Candie wanting to fix me up with some Hufflepuff or--_

"Are you all right?" the voice that was most surely Harry's asked. Ginny kept her eyes clenched shut.

_Why does it have to be him?_ She felt his face close to hers, and warm breath misting around her.

"Did she get knocked out?" Harry muttered. "Ginny, say something!"

_If I just keep very quiet, maybe he'll go away..._

"Maybe I should take you to the hospital wing, then." She felt a hand slip under the crook of her knee, and another hand beneath her back.

_Ack! He's actually touching me!_ All the muscles in her body tightened. _Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!_ She felt herself being lifted off the ground and into the air.

"You're pretty light, Gin." He sounded rather confused. "I don't know how it's possible that you're unconscious. You must've been walking rather fast..."

_Well, I wanted Harry to sweep me off my feet, didn't I? All I needed to do was get knocked out._

Her feet suddenly returned to the ground, with her back propped up by Harry's hand. "Gin?" asked the voice suspiciously. "Are you _really_ unconscious?"

_This feels weird...like we're going to tango or something,_ thought Ginny, only half-wishing his hand would leave her back. 

"Ginny?" Harry's fingers brushed against her face. "Maybe she just fainted...but why?"

_And now he's touching my face...if word gets out about this, girls'll be fainting all over themselves._ Ginny felt blood rushing into her cheeks, and a tingling sensation trailing after Harry's fingers. _No, I think I really am going to faint._

"Oh. I see." Harry's voice took a hard edge to it. "That's really juvenile, Ginny. I thought you were actually hurt."

_Uh-oh._ His hand suddenly left her back; she toppled backward, barely managing to catch her balance.

"Ouch," she murmured, even though she hadn't been hurt at all. "What did you do that for? I could have cracked my head open!"

"I knew you wouldn't fall. Or crack your head open if you did."

"How did you know I was faking?" asked Ginny, rubbing her back in testimony to the accident that didn't happen.

"Unconscious people don't blush." 

"Oh." Ginny flushed a deeper shade of red. She felt her ears warming. Trying to move the focus of the conversation off her and her crimson ears, she asked, "Why did you come following me?"

"Why did you pretend to be unconscious? I was nearly ready to take you down to the hospital wing, Ginny. You shouldn't fake things like that."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do!" she snapped. "You didn't answer my question. Why were you following me?"

"I was going to check to see if you were all right. You looked really upset when you ran off. But it seems that you're fine now."

Ginny didn't miss the backhanded sarcastic remark. She folded her arms across her chest. "Who asked you to follow me?" she inquired coldly.

"I was worried about you!"

"Who asked you to worry about me? Shouldn't you be off with Hermione somewhere?"

"Ginny..." sighed Harry.

"I would have been better if you hadn't come after me! What are you trying to do, torture me? First you say that you're sorry you don't care about me--"

"I never said that, I said that I didn't have the same feelings for--" 

In a louder voice, Ginny repeated, "First you say that you're sorry you don't care about me, then you come chasing after me! Make up your mind, Harry!"

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, half angry and half clueless. "I just wanted to make sure that you were all right!"

"Why? What help could you possibly be? Did you ever consider that maybe I just want to stay as far away from you as possible?"

"I--what? Are you that angry with me? Does that mean we can't be friends?" 

"Friends? Don't patronize me, Harry." Ginny fixed him with a stare that could freeze flames. "We'll be like brother and sister, right? That's what you said, isn't it? I'm the little sister." She pressed a finger to her chin and cocked her head slightly to the side, like she was reminiscing. "I seem to remember someone telling me once--"

Knowing what she was going to say, Harry blurted, "Ginny, I--"

"--someone telling me once that that was just a way to break it off. It doesn't mean a thing."

"But I really--"

"Yes, it's one of those things I'll understand when I'm older, right Harry?" whispered Ginny. "I never would have dreamed it'd be you showing me just how cruel that can be. You're the best teacher I could've hoped to have."

"Ginny, I really meant it!" 

_And that means nothing. He's just blowing you off. He doesn't care about you. In five minutes he'll be back at the party, talking and laughing with Hermione._

"Ginny...?"

"I hate you!" she shrieked, turning her back on Harry before she could see the pained look that spread over his face. He made a slight choking sound and was silent.

_Good, let him suffer,_ she thought vengefully. _Like he made me suffer. I hate him so much, it's burning me up..._

_Or is that love?_

_I...I don't know. I'm confused...why did I just tell him I hate him? I don't hate him!_

_No, I do hate him! He made me suffer and now he should know what it feels like!_

She felt like she'd just had a love-to-hate spell cast on her, but it got botched in the sending and now both emotions were flitting around wildly in her mind, each trying to get out and express itself. _I don't think I hate him. But I don't feel like I love him either. I really don't know what I feel anymore._

_What are you thinking? You had a crush on him for nearly six years! You loved him all that time until about an hour ago! How can your emotions change so quickly?_

_I hate him. How could he be so cruel? I did love him, but he just brushed me away. I don't mean a thing to him._

_He cares about you like you're his own sister! That means a lot!_

_No. He's lying. He told me himself it meant nothing._

_Harry wouldn't lie, would he?_

_I know he has before. Why wouldn't he lie to me?_

_But you surely don't hate him!_

Ginny felt more tears welling up in her eyes. Angry tears or sad tears? She didn't know. All she knew was that she was sick of crying. _I feel like a sponge, all full of emotion and tears when Harry's around, and then when he's gone, I'm dry and hollow. Why does he make me feel that way? I hate it!_

_I hate him._

_Why?_ whispered the voice.

Harry reached out a hand and tentatively set it on her shoulder. "Ginny?" She shuddered. What was that tingling sensation running down her spine? 

_Why do I hate him?_

_Because I love him and he doesn't love me._

She felt like she was going to vomit all over the floor. _Oh, I'm going to be sick, I can't stand being around him anymore, I need to get away--_

"Ginny?"

She swiveled around to look Harry straight in the eyes. "Just leave me alone, Harry. I don't want to be around you anymore."

Harry blanched ever so slightly. "I..." His large jade eyes, magnified behind glasses, blinked in bewilderment and confusion. Then, reassuming his preternatural grace, Harry said simply, "I'm sorry you feel that way," and left without another word.

Ginny stood alone in the long, dim hallway, swaying back and forth in the aftermath of the conversation. Her mouth opened, then shut, fishlike. She was too shocked to even think until Harry's receding figure had disappeared through a door.

_Oh, no._ "I...I...oh, crikey! Harry! Harry, I didn't really mean it, you know that, right? Harry?" Ginny started, as if to chase him down; but he was already gone. 

_I have the most amazing talent for driving people away,_ she reflected. _First Colin, now Harry. Colin'll be over it by tomorrow, but Harry.... I don't know why I just said that to him._ Ginny sighed. _I guess I just wanted to make him hurt, too._

Ginny felt too numb to focus on anything anymore that night. _There's only so much emotion a person can take in one day._ She started off toward Gryffindor Tower, with only sleep on her mind. _I have a feeling I'm really going to regret all this in the morning._

_Crikey, why did I tell him I hate him?_ Ginny thought back to their moment together out in the thunderstorm of earlier. _I have good reason to. But..._

_He deserved what he got. I bet Harry doesn't even know what the word rejection means._

But I don't hate him. I think.

Kind of late to be deciding that.

But I do hate him. I think.

Make up your mind!

Ginny trudged on through the desolate hallways, feeling quite similar to the mud on the bottom of her boots. _I think you're supposed to do that for me._

You know, I never knew things could get so messed up--Ginny paused to kick a stray wad of parchment down the corridor_--in one night. Is it possible to completely be in love with someone, then five minutes later hate him so much you wish he'd die just so you'd never have to look at him again--_

_You wish he'd die?_

_No, of course not!_

_Be careful what you wish for...you might just get it._

_What? It was just an analogy!_

She continued down the hallway with her head down and her hair creating a crimson curtain around her face.

_Anyway, it doesn't matter, right? Because wishes never come--_

Ginny turned the corner, paled, and screamed.

_...true._

* * *


End file.
